


but he really is his son’s father and he really is his father’s son

by godpallet (bigsleepsuperhighway)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Archie MacMillan's A-Plus Parenting, Canon Has Been Taken Out Back & Shot, Drabble, Hurt No Comfort, Lore Rewrite, M/M, Slice of Life, Unhappy Ending, Vignette, the devs did him so fucking dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsleepsuperhighway/pseuds/godpallet
Summary: "It's a bed," he says finally, flicking the match into the waste pail when he's done with it and puffing curtly on his cigar. "What's all the fuss about?"
Relationships: Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	but he really is his son’s father and he really is his father’s son

**Author's Note:**

> see the ending notes 4 tws

One thing about Tommy is that he's never been a tight lip after a fuck, so the thought floats up in the air between them, right up to where Evan's sternly trying to convince a match to light: "Don't think I'll ever get used to the size of your fucking bed."

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Evan's bed. It's a big old feathered number, a little too high off the ground and stocked with an absolute ocean of pillows and blankets, because even heirs to bigwig capitalist empires get cold at night. Tommy idly considers it. Reckons they could fit three more of Archie's strapping mining men on it if they tried. Relishes not having to share this island with anyone but the boy it belongs to...

Just to test his reach, he scrunches up his face and stretches out, working out the pleasant aches in his muscles and feeling the comforter ride underneath him. Evan looks at him peculiarly as the flame turns his face orange.

"It's a bed," he says finally, flicking the match into the waste pail when he's done with it and puffing curtly on his cigar. "What's all the fuss about?"

"Bigger'n any in the lodging houses," Tommy says pointedly. Downplaying it. A lot.

"Well, so what?"

_ "So what," _ Tommy snorts. "So what is what. Got so much room everywhere you hardly know it."

Evan frowns and taps his ashes off in the tray on the side table. Even in the aftermath, even front and center with the frailty of his own nakedness, he manages to look—rigid. Steel-cut, all hard and flinty, even more so today because of what his dad did to Charlie Wilkins. He'd yowled like a cat when Tommy'd proper worked his fingers in, barely unwound enough to kiss him right in the moments before he spent himself.

The bow of Evan's mouth goes sullen. "I'm not so— _ spoon-fed _ as all that."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are..."

"I'm  _ not," _ Evan says haughtily, and then his ears go red because Tommy's smiling. "Stop teasing me, I don't like it."

Rigid or no, Tommy has leeway. In this moment, when he's finally gotten the two of them loosened up just a bit, and nowhere else except this room, so he'll take this selfish little chance of it when he can. His God- and country-given right to this... He sits up and tests his reach a second time, his mouth lighting on one of Evan's tightly coiled shoulders. This, here. "Aw, Ev. Ev- _ an. _ You know I don't hardly mean any of it."

Evan takes another pull on the cigar and blows a not-quite-angry cloud of smoke up towards the ceiling. "Not hardly," he grumbles, but his ears are still red and Tommy knows he's won him over. He could always do it, with a well-placed smile or a word or two. Could be counted on to play the rough-and-tumble, debauch the rich boy over and over again while the rest of the world dirtied their faces in the coal dust outside.

Evan allows Tommy's mouth to scour the salt-sharp of his collarbone while he smokes. Pretends like he doesn't need it and also like he's not getting hard again, if the way he's gripped vice-tight on the cigar is any indication. And right up against Tommy's hip...

"Come here," Tommy says. Kisses him once, real soft, right up under where his jaw slopes out from when Archie shattered it.

Evan shuts his eyes. "Yes," he replies, softer. He stubs the cigar out in the ashtray (not even half smoked, Tommy notes, with a kind of fond jealousy) and lets his hands come up to cup the back of Tommy's skull, and they're kissing again, kissing like they were just before, in the empty hallway outside Evan's room. Just to give the illusion of  _ where anyone could see _ without having to worry about getting lashed. Evan isn't risky like that. His father would kill him. Wouldn't think twice about it.

But Evan's mouth is soft. Hot sting of cigar smoke coloring the inside of his mouth, teeth gentle when they trap his bottom lip. It's good. Good enough for another romp, surely, but Tommy's content to kiss for a while. Let Evan finally relax, probably for the first time today, even when he'd first bade Tommy upstairs. Let himself relax too.

Even if neither of them will speak up about it, they're here tonight because of Charlie.

Kind, strong, smart. Held the same job for ten years, a wife and kid to feed, and now they won't eat because he'd spoken out of turn. Got beat to where he nearly died 'n only got an example made of him, and his holding cupboard was empty after the work day, and Tommy had to storm up to Evan's and fuck all the mad off. Needed it. They both did. Their own little private rebellion, hard and wanting, undercut with this barely-hidden rancor.

Only a short while ago, Evan nearly drew blood with his trap of a mouth, and Tommy gritted his teeth and rode it out. Means to an end.

Not now, though.

Now, Evan's rutting properly against him, on top of him, and Tommy's remembering the miles and miles of bruised-over skin Evan's got but also his soft hands, because he's never had to work a day in his life but still has to fight for it every time Archie rounds on him, and how could he have forgotten?

They're still young enough to go again, so they do. Softer this time, just to prove they still have it in them, maybe. Just to prove Archie can't always control them. And they'll maintain the affair for a long, long time, and Evan doesn't ever get married because the day he turns twenty-five, Tommy is killed in a mining collapse, and every night after that for a whole year, Evan sits up in his room alone, staring blankly at the photograph of his mother smiling on the far wall.

Right before he detonates the charges that will kill every single person in his father's employ, he remembers that it is his twenty-sixth birthday, and that he has forgotten what Tommy's voice sounds like. Below him, in the tunnels, the canary stops singing.

**Author's Note:**

> **tw/cw: implied abuse by a parent, mild sexual content, death**
> 
> drop me a comment, or feel free 2 come visit me on my [dbd tumblr](https://godpallet.tumblr.com) if u feel like it!!!


End file.
